What effect does calling an album or song “psychedelic” have? Is it like calling a book you can’t understand “post-modern?” Retribution Gospel Choir’s 2 should be quieter and more stoic than it is, should be less anthemic lyrically than it seems to be and I shouldn’t like it this much. I do, though. I love it, in fact. Does that make it psychedelic? Or just loud and dizzying? Sure, the swirls of guitar noise and powerful, albeit periodic, classic-rock riffs lend themselves to the tag, but I feel like using the word is a cop-out.
My languorous move away from the adjective in question has everything to do with how good this album really is. The only song with a major flaw is “Something’s Going to Break.” The intro is over two minutes long and spirals out of control before finally exploding into a full-on barrage that is way too late and way too short. Other than that, this album is damn-near flawless. Opener “Hide It Away” crushes the listener with Alan Sparhawk’s forced, overpowering vocals leading an easy-by-way-of-building riff and a fantastic rhythm. “‘68 Comeback” and “Workin’ Hard” force the issue with blazing riffs in short-and-sweet rockers. “Poor Man’s Daughter” is one of two more dynamic songs: the pristine ending fades out the instruments as the band regales the listener with the main character’s La-La-Las. The song is a beautiful summation of what RGC can really do when they want to be dynamic.
The album ends with two gems: “Electric Guitar,” coming in and out of blissful, noisy attacks at a shade under 9 minutes and “Bless Us All,” a creepy, altogether short jam that brings the album home nicely. Though the last song may sound a little like Sparhawk’s past projects, there’s still an edge as he croons: “The last time I saw that old fag/ Bless us all, Bless us all, Bless us all/ He said, ‘kiss the kids and be a good dad.’/ Bless us all.” As the heartbeat-like, background drones swell alongside paced strings, he continues, “We buried ourselves in the arms of our enemies/ so the last thing I need/ is a lover.” I won’t assume to know the relationships he alludes to, but the listener is given, if nothing else, a clear picture of how this album is meant to end. The amateur psychologist in all of us is beckoned only to be turned away– not unlike we should be. This isn’t a chance to look into a man’s life; it’s only rock-and-roll.
No song proves the album’s worth better than one of its least dynamic tracks, “Your Bird.” The song explodes early with a simple, hard-hitting beat accompanying a simple driving melody. Everything is perfectly loud and synchronized to seemingly leave empty space for the later grinding, building dissonance (as any good three-piece rock band is wont to do). The song is a reminder that production isn’t everything, but it’s pretty damned important. In a world where any band, with the right tools, can sound more “professional” than they are, Retribution Gospel Choir uses the amazing level of talent they have and the tools at their disposal to create a war cry against boring music. “You want to make them shout./ You want to make them beg./ You want to sing your little song,/ well, turn the microphone up…”
RGC are like the older brother in a band you want to front. They are your father’s record collection. They are your sister, driving you to school listening to an angst-ridden album way too loud. They are the reason you started listening to rock-and-goddamned-roll in the first place and they are the reason you continue to do so. They are the reason you allay the tags and adjectives and go ahead and try to describe 2 to your friends who would rather listen to the album than you raving about it. Yet, you cant stop raving. 2 may not be perfect, but it’s really good. And that’s all you need, right? Yeah, it is.
